


OC Tober Prompt Fills

by potato_writes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Character Study, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Blood, Prompt Fill, Recovery, Trauma, oc tober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 13,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potato_writes/pseuds/potato_writes
Summary: A series of prompt fills for every day of October 2019.Originally posted on Tumblr.





	1. Beginnings (Leonard Kelwyn)

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted these on my Tumblr potatothecat in October 2019, but wanted to share them here as well. All prompts are from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr, and all characters are my own.

He’s not sure why he’s here, honestly.  
The first woman—his mother, she was his mother—is dead, fallen on the walls of a city he barely knows and certainly doesn’t understand. The second woman, his sister, lies still and pale somewhere in this massive building, everyone waiting with bated breath to see what will happen now. The man, his father, he hasn’t seen at all.  
He doesn’t belong here, in this kingdom of music and wild, of storms and songs. He doesn’t recognize himself in the people he’s been told are his family—only a few similarities to his now-dead mother, and a female mirror image in the sister he barely knows.  
Yet he does. It’s been six months, but he feels as if he knows her as well as his old friends, his old home, his adoptive parents—long dead and buried, but still loved. He already loves the healers, loves hearing them talk about their business and learning from them when he sits with his sister, watching both her and the man, their father, who sits across from him and doesn’t say a word. His soul seems whole, complete in a way it never was before. Maybe this is what he’s been missing all along.  
This is his home, now. In this place, with these people both strange and familiar. He thinks he might be able to accept this, these beginnings in a place so different from his old life he can barely begin to describe it. The wariness of the others is already fading, slowly dissolving as he helps them wash the scars from their land. They smile at him, laugh and joke about his heroics—though he’s not sure what he did. She did most of it. She’s the one who nearly died for this cause.  
But maybe that’s not what it’s about.  
He can start fresh here, while still keeping his old friends. He can embrace these new beginnings, because he’s never had a real family before. He’d like to try, if he could. Speak to his father for once, instead of sitting in silence beside the woman they are both bound to. They both learned the same truth on the same day, after all. All he needs to do is take that chance.


	2. Dance (Lothiriel Kelwyn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The music rings, echoing up into the rafters of the hall, bouncing between the figures scattered throughout its interior. Chatter serves as a murmuring undertone, loud but never enough to drown out the leaps of bows across strings, the thunder of drums, the triumphant fanfare of the horns, the sweet calls of woodwinds.

She pauses in the door for a moment, breathing it all in. A year ago, she’d have thought this impossible. A part of her still does, still thinks they’re at war and scrambling to stay alive, to make every day count.

But they made it. They’re here, against all odds. And despite herself, she smiles, broad and shining in the brilliant lights of the hall.

Somewhere across the room, her friends gossip delightedly. They’re waiting for her, she knows this, and if she crosses the room she’ll find them, be sucked into their whirlwind. She’ll throw her cares aside, tossing fear to the wind as she joins them and rebels in the victory they all won together. Join them in a wild dance to celebrate their triumph, their salvation. But that’s not what she wants right now.

Somewhere on the edges of the hall, her father stands alone, or with a pair of women beside him. Maybe he’s smiling, maybe his eyes are sad. If she wanted, she could skirt the edges of the crowd, seek him out and pull him onto the dance floor, or have the conversation they still need to have, will have to have when this is all over. But he needs time. They both do. Too much loss stands between them right now.

Somewhere else within the palace, memories lie in dark corners. If she wanted, she could go searching for them, seeking solace or comfort or regret. Maybe all three. She has no way of knowing for sure. But that’s worse, to go seeking the past when they’re here to honour the future they fought and died for. Her mother wouldn’t want that.

Somewhere deep in the ocean, outside the city she calls home, lies her mother’s body, still and calm beneath the waves. Maybe in death she found the forgiveness she couldn’t earn in life. Maybe in death, she found what she spent her life looking for. It’s not up to her, the living daughter, to say for sure. After all, she doesn’t know.

To the dance it is, then. She can forget, for one night. So she steps inside the hall and allows her friends to find her, allows herself to fall into the chasm of music and open her heart to the pulse and passion of the wild thing her people call a dance.


	3. Feast (Arianne Thompson)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

She stands alone on the walls of the city, gazing out into the night. The city behind her has gone still, everything quiet in those few moments of rest they can spare. The enemies she knows wait in the darkness slumber as well, tired of fighting a pointless battle when neither side can truly win.

The guards on watch are far away on either side, their commander sitting awake in his office within the walls. He should be asleep. So should she, but that thought is one she puts aside in favour of focusing on the foes she cannot see.

Siege does strange things to a person. It makes them wary, suspicious of every stranger. And she knows her enemies cannot enter this city, not while even one of her warriors lives, but she worries anyways. As does he. They can’t help themselves. The world is at war, and the person they are counting on to save them is nowhere to be found. Though that’s a good thing, she knows. If they knew where she was, there would be far greater issues to worry about.

Still, it’s hard. To sit on the walls of her city, knowing they cannot enter and she cannot leave. It’s hard to know her brother is somewhere surrounded by their enemies, trying desperately to survive in a situation where you never know what could be a fatal move.

How much longer can this last? How much longer before one or both of them gives up, gives in to the temptation to surrender, accepts the fact that this is one fight they can’t win alone? Her friend, somewhere out beyond the walls, could save them, but no one knows where she is.

Her brother would tell her not to give up. He would tell her that things will get better, that the siege will break, her friend will return, and someday they will feast in the great palace once again. A grand banquet to celebrate their victory. A feast to honour the world they all love.

But he’s not here.

So she stands on the walls, alone in the spot where she watched a woman die less than three months before, and draws up images of the feast she may never get to eat. Because imagination is far kinder than reality, because imagination allows her to go back to a time when they were children who knew no evil and could never imagine what it felt like to stand on the walls of the city they once called home and not recognize it in any way.


	4. Nature (Carin Swavorski)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

Hatred, she likes to think, is not in her nature. There’s no reason for her to feel so strongly, not when her life has provided her with everything she could ever want. Sure, she would like her son to be kinder, her children to get along more, but she has been blessed with gifts far greater than many of her compatriots have received.

It is only that her compatriots make it so difficult for her to remain neutral and unaffected.

Her queen sits at the head of the table, cold eyes cursing any fool who dares disagree with her on any matter, regardless of how trivial it may seem. Her neighbour rants, an endless tirade of bigotry and nonsense that stirs some long shut-up sensation inside of her, a tingling in her   
fingertips and an ever-increasing desire to strike him square in the jaw and make him shut up.

When did this happen?

She’s always thought herself a good person, slow to anger and kind to all no matter how horrid they may seem. Has she really been so wrong?

Or is this their problem, something she’s only begun to suspect recently? Maybe she hasn’t changed, or maybe she has but for the better. Now she can see how terrible they truly are, how their nature has twisted to become something that barely resembles a civilized being—after all, what civilized being would say it is justified to send children to war?

Her neighbour rants on, his reedy voice dragging on every syllable and vibrating on her ears until she’s tempted to scream. Storm, how insufferable can one man be?

She’s never had reason to hate someone before. So it was never a feeling she’d experienced until now. They’ve given her reason to feel so strongly. Their cruel words and twisted smiles are just the tip of an even greater evil, one that she has no desire to see blossom to fruition.

So no, hatred is not in her nature. But nature changes. Environments change. And as they do, so do people, so that once-lovely flowers turn rancid and even the most delicate rose can develop incredibly, impossibly sharp thorns.


	5. Lost (Prince Carl)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.
> 
> Warning for implied alcoholism.

He should’ve been back hours ago. His father will be furious in that quiet way that says he wishes he could help, wishes he knew how to save his son from himself. But he knows his father can’t help him. This one is on him, and him alone.

The alcohol stings in his throat as he swallows it down, and he knows he should stop. He’s had too much already, so much that it burns in his stomach and coils up tight and heavy in the back of his head. The night grows old around him, and his guilt rises up to his throat, sitting there just as heavy as the drink on his tongue. 

He doesn’t want to go back, to see that empty space where she should be, his father’s sad eyes as he looks at what’s left of his family. And he knows it’s foolish, she’s not dead, but he can’t help but wish she was. Maybe it would be easier, that way.

Bile stings his throat, his eyes sting with tears. He hates this version of himself, and if she were here she’d be furious. She’d grab him by the shoulders and tell him to snap out of it, this isn’t the way to handle your problems. You need to grow up, little brother. Dad needs you. Our people need you.

His friends, too, would be disappointed. Some pitying, some cold and angry, they’d look at him and ask, why? What makes you think this is the best option? There are other ways. There are always other ways. 

And his father, Shadow, his father. He can barely stand to think about the quiet disappointment, the guilt he knows will be written across his father’s face. Not saying anything, but wondering. What did I do wrong? How have I failed my children so badly?

He can’t do it. He’s lost here, in this tangled maze of what he should do, and what he feels he can do. He shouldn’t be here, in this bar with one too many drinks in his stomach, trying to dull the pain in the only way he knows how.

But he’s lost inside a haze of liquor, and though his rational mind screams at him, the rest of his body cannot hear.


	6. Bitter (Queen Maeveen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

She storms into her office, the door slamming against the wall then shutting with a bang. Her hands clench into fists, her whole body rigid as she breathes in, out, fighting to calm herself before she does something rash. 

It’s not fair, she thinks, almost like a toddler denied a favourite toy. It’s not fair that this upstart child should get all the power, all the glory, when she’s done so much to get them to this point. Without her, they’d all be dead. And what thanks does she get? Being told she’s going too far, that she shouldn’t be so hasty and quick to judge. If only they knew. Why is it she alone can see how dangerous the girl they all idolize truly is?

Though that may be on her. She can concede that much. None of them know how powerful, how dangerous the girl is, because she has not told them. Maybe she should, so they’ll understand, but then again, would they? They all seem so blind to her faults already.

She sits down, rubbing her temples and trying not to surrender to the temptation to scream, yell, punch something. Why does she still do this? When has it ever proven to be worthy of the effort she puts in? If her daughter weren’t so incompetent, she’d have abandoned her post long ago.

She swallows, feels the bitter tang of the bile in her throat. It revolts her, how they all follow a hint of power, a faint sign of potential as if it were a carrot dangled before a horse. They are all so foolish, to think they have found their saviour. After all, she is right here. Whatever the girl does, she can do just as well if not better.

The seer warned her about thinking this way, but she can’t find it in herself to care. The seer can join them in their foolishness. They’ll thank her someday, when she prevents the girl from leading them all into ruin. She’ll show them. And then they’ll realize how stupid they were to follow the girl blindly when the could have been following her this whole time.

She smiles, a twisted thing that doesn’t reach her eyes. They’ll see. Her teeth clamp into her lip, and she hisses at the pain, swallowing again and tasting the sharp blood in her mouth, as bitter and painful as the thoughts that circle through her head, in and out and in and out again.


	7. Tender (King Sloane)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.
> 
> Warning for some vague medical stuff and references to death.

The room is bland, drab. The sheets of the bed are stark white, and in the day are almost to blinding to look at. The chairs are hard, metal and wire with a single beaten-down cushion that last saw better days a half-century ago. The window faces the east, so morning light blinds any fool who chooses to sit on the wrong side of the bed. There are no shelves, no pictures, and the only other furniture is a small wooden table set off to the side, it’s rickety legs barely enough to support a small book.

He would know, he’s been here every day for the past week.

His daughter—the thought is still strange to him, even six months later—lies still and quiet, her mind and body resting after she nearly died to save them all. The healers only just decided she can be moved, and no one’s done anything to make that happen yet. There’s been no time.

He has other things to do, responsibilities, tasks to help with the rebuilding. His fellow rulers have both come by several times, though they don’t press him. But he knows they’d like his help, are silently asking for it whenever they slip in to sit with him for a while. He also knows he can’t, can’t leave her side when it’s all still so uncertain, when he still doesn’t know if she’ll make it.

The healers say she will. They also said that about his wife, long ago.

His chest aches, sitting here beside her. This young woman who has lost so much already, given so much of herself so they could win this war. She deserves better than this. And he’s not just saying that because she’s his child. After all, he didn’t know before. Nothing needs to change now besides their knowledge. This will not be what breaks them.

How could it be? If anything, this should bring them closer, fill the gaps they both have in their families. He’s always been soft on her, always played favourites in a way he knows he shouldn’t have. But maybe a part of him knew all along. Maybe his heart knew of their blood ties even when his mind didn’t.

He feels tender, raw, stretched out further with every day he comes to sit with her. How can he keep doing this, keep sitting by his daughter’s side and hoping she’ll wake up soon? How much longer must he wait in order to speak to her again, have the conversation they should have had months ago?

The healers can’t answer that one for him. The one person he thinks could have is gone now, dead on the walls of the city she loved. And so he sits here, at his daughter’s bedside, waiting with bated breath for the day she awakens and his heart no longer feels so tender, so raw and beaten in the center of his chest.


	8. Storm (Lothiriel Kelwyn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

Rain pounds down around her, hammering drops into the earth as she paces back and forth on the path, dirt soaked through from two hours of steady rain. No one else has passed her by for more than that time. Who else would be stupid enough to be outside in this weather?

A storm of thoughts whip about in her head, almost as chaotic as the wind that continues to pick up. She came out here to clear her head, yet it seems she’s done the exact opposite. 

Maybe she should have taken up the offer of a ride. Maybe then she wouldn’t be here, striding back and forth along this trail and hoping the answers to her questions will suddenly appear written in the wet earth.

Secrets. Lies. It seems the people she’s supposed to trust don’t want her to know anything about herself. Her mother. Her queen. All it leads to is her wondering if the others, her friends, are lying to her as well. At this point, she wouldn’t even be surprised. Just another disappointment in a long line of them from the past year. Just another hurt she can check off her list. 

Storm, she has a list now. Of all the terrible, pathetic things...

The more lies she uncovers, the less certain she is about, well, anything. No wonder she’s the only person outside in this storm. Storms pull at her now, call her to them. And she doesn’t mind coming. After all, the storm raging inside her mind is no different. Nice to know something else in this world is equally impossible to control.

You can, though, the traitorous voice in her head whispers. She clamps down on it, forcing the thought away. Because what she really needs at this moment is the reminder of another lie. Another secret about herself she didn’t know.

Thunder rumbles, somewhere off in the distance. The rain increases in intensity, coming down even harder around her. She pulls up the collar of her jacket and turns her face skyward, closing her eyes and letting the rain soak her face, cover it with droplets of water that drip down towards her chin, running off to land on the material of her jacket and slowly bead down to join their compatriots on the ground. 

Rain does a very effective job of hiding tears.

Not that anyone would notice. Not that anyone would look her in the eye long enough to note the difference. They’re all afraid of her now. She could do anything, anything at all, and they’d still avert their eyes and say nothing. 

And to think she once counted these people as her friends.

But she forgets. She has no friends, not anymore. After all, who would want her as a friend, this broken shell of a woman who stands in a storm with tears in her eyes and wishes that for once someone would be honest, that for once someone would just be willing to look her in the eye for a little bit longer.


	9. Study (David Thompson)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

He’s finally cleared his desk of the most recent pile of papers, and he sits back in his seat, takes a breath, a moment to relax in the midst of the chaos that surrounds a rebuilding process. He won’t get another moment like this for a while yet, maybe not for a long time if the offer the new queen’s given him is real. Though she’s never given him a reason to doubt her.

He hasn’t seen much of the others, though they’ve all been too busy to really talk as a group. Some have new duties to learn. Some have new relationships to make sense of. Others are helping with the rebuilding of a kingdom and spend little time in the capital anymore. For a few, it’s a combination of all three.

His rational mind understands this, of course. But there’s still a part of him that believes the war’s still on, that his friends may never come back from their missions. It’s only been a month, though. His unease is shared by everyone else. They all joke about it on the rare occasions they’re together, trying to make light of what weighs heavily on all of their minds. 

Still, it’s hard. His sister comes by as often as she can, the others making time for him even if he knows they have other concerns, other issues. He should be grateful. Of them all, he’s perhaps the least scarred. After all, he’s not the one pacing the halls, restless from weeks of nightmares. He’s not the one who fought on every battlefield. He wasn’t captured in a brutal defeat, or forced to watch his friends and family die. 

If even the lucky ones are haunted by this war, will any of them ever fully recover?

He’s studied these sorts of things before, looking for something to do in a place governed by his enemies. He knows healing takes time. For all of them. But part of him feats for his friends, his sister, knowing what he does. Knowing how dangerous these traumas can become, given time.

But these are the strongest people he knows. The greatest warriors, far more powerful than him, a mere scholar. They’ll recover. He has faith in them.

He sits forward, eying the closed door of his study, and returns to his work. After all, there’s a great deal of paperwork involved with ending a war. And no matter how much he hopes, it’s not going to complete itself.


	10. Memes (Jessa Carrington)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The sun shines bright, a brilliant ball of light coating everything in golden rays. The sky’s cloudless, the only colour above a lovely blue. The grass has never felt greener than this, the first day of spring. It’s a perfect day for a walk in the gardens.

So of course she’s taking advantage. Why wouldn’t she? Days like this don’t come around that often. And after so many years of war, it’s imperative that she appreciate them all the more. It’s the first spring since war’s end, after all. This, if nothing else, should be cause for celebration.

She slips her hands into her pockets and strides along the garden path, humming softly under her breath. One of the festival songs, a cheery reel that springs along like the bee she currently sees darting from flower to flower. The blossoms paint the garden in a vast spray of colours, every shade under the sun represented in some stunning bloom. A good omen for the year ahead.

She should pick some, bring them inside. The others will appreciate a pop of colour. Plus, it means things are returning to normal at long last. 

Or maybe she should use the lure of the bright flowers to drag them outside. Their work can’t possibly be so important that they can’t come and appreciate the fresh spring air, the sweet scent of the flowers, the clear blue sky. What’s the point in sitting around doing paperwork, when you could be out here appreciating the beauty of the world?

Humans, she supposes. She’s been studying them and their customs as a side project—on the rare occasions she has time. They’re a fascinating bunch, them and their strange jokes they pass between themselves on their wide digital web of connections. Memes, she believes they’re called.

Her friends would laugh at them ruefully, shaking their heads and muttering about how stupid they are, but she rather likes these memes. They call to her sense of humour, which her friends call unique at best and downright weird at worst. Not that she minds. It’s become an inside joke with them. Almost their own personal meme.

She absolutely should try to drag them out here. After all, it’s the most beautiful day she’s seen in a long while. No point in letting them waste the day away indoors. And besides, the best thing to do on a day such as this is to share it with friends, because no good friend would let her companions waste their time on work when they could be out here, enjoying the wonders of a shining spring day under the cloudless sky.


	11. City (Gina Tiananis)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

She’s always preferred the city. 

Her domain has always been that of the bright lights, the crowds of people, the towering buildings, the hubs of innovation and invention. She was born and raised in one of those hubs, after all. Even now, all these years later, she’ll always choose her cities over the vast fields and empty space of rural areas. 

She sits in her lab now, stares out the wide window that overlooks the shining city beyond. Bustling and chaotic even in night, never fully at rest no matter how late the hour. It makes her feel less alone, knowing that despite the late hour there’s always someone else out, always someone else moving throughout the streets. 

It’s calming to her, even if others might see it as chaos, too much. She can respect that, though. Everyone has their own preferences. The constant motion of the city just happens to be hers. 

Most who know her story but not her would probably wonder why. After all, the city is also where she was orphaned, where she grew up alone and hungry for connection. But’s also where she made her closest friends, met the love of her life, learned she could be so much more than a street orphan. It’s where she learned how to manipulate technology, to design and build more and more complex things. It’s where she came into her own, and earned herself the title of a war hero. Why would she hate the city when it’s given her so much?

The lights are dimmed in her lab, but outside the lamps shine. This city in particular calls to her, being both her birthplace and the hub of innovation she longs to be a part of.

She is a part of it. Why would she be longing?

A part of her’s still stuck in the past, when she was orphaned and alone, fighting to survive on the streets of the city beyond her window. A part of her still views her life, this lab as a distant dream. A part of her forgets, on occasion, that her long ago dream has become her reality, that she gets to live her dream every single day.

It will all work out for the best, her mother tells her in the one memory she has. And she knows nothing about her parents, but it seems to her now that those words were a prophecy. Ensuring that no matter how hard things might be for her, they will eventually right themselves, and all will be well once again. 

She smiles and continues to gaze out the window, savouring the lights and the sounds of her beloved city at night. Sitting calm and patient, waiting for nothing in particular. Just observing the city as it runs through its nightly routine, watching the lights until they blur into faint beams barely visible until she refocuses her eyes.


	12. Obsess (The Enemy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The walls of the cave seem particularly oppressive today, pressing close around him and leaving no extra room for him to breathe. Not that he needs to. The one benefit to a non-corporeal form is that things such as breathing, eating, sleeping all become unnecessary. 

Not like that makes him any happier about this situation. 

How many years has he been trapped here, waiting and plotting for the day when he’s finally permitted to walk the worlds again? For how long has he obsessed over every detail of his plan, determined to ensure his victory this time? 

If the girl doesn’t foil him. It took seven to defeat him last time, and one perished in the attempt. Now, it may only take one. A girl more powerful than any of the seven. Maybe even more powerful than him.

He hates her, and he’s yet to encounter her. Though being trapped as a figure of mist in this cave makes it difficult for him to go out and meet people—or kill them, depending on how he’s feeling. With the girl, he’d choose the latter. Do it now, before she learns the truth about her abilities. Before she gets proper training, truly becomes strong enough to defeat him once and for all. 

A part of him knows he can obsess all he wants, and it won’t make a difference. He’ll still be stuck here, and the girl will still be out there. His servants will still be cowering fools—except the princess, who would willingly overthrow him if she thought she could get away with it. He hates her too, but she’s the strongest of those he’s selected to serve him. He wouldn’t get very far at all without her.

For the most part, though, he sustains himself on his rage. His hatred for the girl drives him, keeps him from forgetting his purpose. He’ll destroy them all someday. And he knows exactly how he’ll go about it.

And the girl, he’ll crush her like the puny insect she is. Her power is insignificant next to his might. She can think herself strong, but he’ll be waiting for her to slip up. And when she does, he’ll be ready. He’s been ready for a long time. 

They can all dam themselves: his servants, the princess, his enemies, the girl most of all. His obsession with revenge will take him to the top some day soon. And then they’ll regret ever thinking they could stand against him. 

Someday, he promises himself. Soon. He just needs a few more pieces of the puzzle to fall into place. And then, they’ll all be sorry.


	13. Waiting (Princess Gabrielle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

Time moves so much more slowly now that she can manipulate it. One would think she could make it all move faster, jump ahead to where she wants to end up in the passage of time. But there’s rules. There always are. 

She understands perfectly why the rules exist. She’s not like the rest of her family, who actively take pleasure in flaunting the rules of their world. It pains her every time she has to pretend, has to smile at her mother’s cruel insults, has to play along with her uncle’s smug arrogance. 

But she does. After all, she has a duty to fulfill, even if it’s not the one her family thinks she has.   
It’s incredibly hard to spy on your own family. She would know, better than anyone else. 

What has her life become?

Some days, it feels like she’s been waiting for millions of years. What she’s waiting for is beyond her, just another question she can’t answer.

It’s ironic, in a way. That she can spy so effectively, answer the questions of everyone around her with absolute confidence. But she can’t even answer her own questions about herself. 

Sooner or later, someone’s going to ask her about herself, and she already knows she’ll just burst out laughing, brittle and thin and angry. How can she tell them? She doesn’t have a clue herself. 

Part of her wishes she’d never agreed to this. They could have found someone else to spy, someone else who could get them the information they so desperately need. But then she remembers there is no one else, that she’s the only one who could ever get this close to her family. They don’t trust anyone else enough to be betrayed by them.

How long has she been waiting, either for her family or the master to find her out, or for those she serves to take action at long last? How long has she been waiting for this nightmare of lies and treachery to end? She’s not like her mother, delighted by games of power and the mind. She just wants to understand her life again, so that she knows she made the right decision.

But she did. Of course she did.

It’s just hard, when she feels so alone. It’s hard when she’s trapped in this obsidian palace with only the hands of the clock to keep her company, watching time tick slowly by and waiting for someone to move, for something to happen so she doesn’t have to live with the uncertainty that comes with being the only spy at the very heart of enemy territory.


	14. Play (Tori Daelond)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The fields outside the capital are empty, preternaturally still in the pre-dawn light. She stands there, alone on the plain, and slowly breathes in the cool air. Her lungs fill with freshness, and her mind calms. Everything is silent and serene, peaceful for the little while before the city awakens.

Soon, she’ll have to go back. She’s not looking forward to dealing with her responsibilities, and certainly not the young trainees who have yet to learn the difference between war and play. But she can’t stay out here forever, no matter how much she wishes she could. 

It would be easier if she had followed the same path as her siblings. She didn’t have to stay on, continue to serve her country. She could have easily completed her training and then moved on, found some other duty like her siblings. No one would fault her for it. In fact, most would probably prefer to join her in retiring from this life. 

But she can’t.

In theory, it’s easy. But in practice she’d feel like she was abandoning her duties, failing to help those who need it most. And she couldn’t live with herself if she just left, forced others to take over the gap she left behind. So her longing to leave this behind, to return to the play of her childhood, has to be put aside in favour of doing what she has to.

Her mother would laugh bitterly if she knew what she was thinking. She’d call her a terrible martyr and smile in that sad way that meant she wished things were different. Her mother wears that look a great deal, nowadays.

She takes another deep breath in, holds it, breathes out. A faint breeze stirs the air, sending the first wafts of the early-morning loaves from the bakeries and eateries. She doesn’t have too much longer out here. The trainees are calling, antics and all.

If she were younger, she’d envy their ability to play still, even while training for war. If she were younger, she might be more sympathetic to their desire to be set loose, to be allowed to play in the gardens for a while longer. But she’s now old enough to be frustrated instead of endeared, even if she knows her siblings and herself were the same way at that age. Her brother, youngest among them, still is.

The scent of the baking bread calls her back to the city, along with the calls of the guards on the walls as the night watch changes over to the morning one. It’s time. She must go back and tackle the duties she’d rather avoid, even though the playtime of her youngest trainees can still manage to make her smile. 

They’re so young, so innocent. They should all be out at play, not here. Not waiting for the war to take them all down.


	15. Scream (Mia Brexton)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.
> 
> Warning for implied/referenced abuse.

The door seems so solid now that it’s shut fast against the world, but she knows it’s just an illusion. Sooner or later, someone or something will burst her little bubble, come in and tear down the few moments of security she’s able to grasp. 

She should have known better than to agree to this marriage. She should have known that this family can’t change its ways, that her husband and sister-in-law will never be anything but cruel, cold, vile. But it’s hard to see that when a handsome man is courting you, making you feel special for being sought by the prince of the realm. She didn’t see the warning signs until it was far too late.

Her niece—she can’t call her that, they’re the same age—is the one bright spot in this miserable life. The one member of this damn family that doesn’t make her want to scream and run away every time they encounter each other. 

That’s not much reassurance when her husband is all she sees some days. Those days are the worst, when she waits until he’s asleep to slip out to the balcony and scream her agony up to the stars, hidden behind heavy grey clouds. How long does she have to do this for? Sooner or later, the people she once thought were her enemies must declare war. They can’t keep letting this family run amok. It’s too dangerous for them.

Strange, how those she once saw as her greatest enemies are now her only hope for salvation. How times have changed. How she wishes they hadn’t.

Why did he have to choose her, of all people? Why couldn’t he have found some other noble girl who was equally eager to be courted by the prince himself? 

How can she wish this agony on another? Shouldn’t she know better? After all, they’re probably all glad it was her, in the end, not them. Her being chosen spared them from this fate. She’s the unlucky one who has to endure this. 

Once, she had dreams. Hopes for the future, for something beyond this dark and dreary kingdom of liars. Now, this family she married into has snuffed out the faint candle of her hope, so that all she can do is hide herself in the corner of the room and try not to scream until night falls again.

The door to her room is her only reprieve, and even that’s not enough. So she sits, back tightly pressed to the wall, and waits for the moment she dreads when they return to drag her back into her life of living hell.


	16. Wild (King Sloane)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The desert sands are a comfort after weeks of being trapped inside the city, arguing with his fellow leaders over the fine details of their latest trade agreement. To his eye, the wild dunes and small patches of cacti are as refreshing as an oasis might be to those not born here. But he’s lived below this desert his entire life. He knows the beauty it hides beneath the barren surface.

His guards and fellow negotiators move to the underground entrance quickly, eager to return home after so long visiting their allies. But he hesitates, taking a deep breath of the dry air before turning to follow them underground. 

The wild winds and immense sandstorms may have driven them underground, but the desert still seems to contain that same hidden beauty. It doesn’t matter that they live their lives under its surface. The desert still serves as their home.

And its wild storms and rolling dunes are much preferable to the wild arguments of the last few days. Why these trade renegotiations can never go smoothly is beyond him. After all, he’s not the one who takes delight in antagonizing others until they can restrain their anger no longer. He’d really rather they discuss matters calmly, without going for the throat whenever they feel even slightly threatened.

One of his fellow rulers understands that, though the other does not. At this point, all he can do is grit his teeth and hope the meeting will end soon. Hope that he can find somewhere secluded and just sit, enjoying the silence.

Or he could go out, find some wild place like his beloved desert and just savour the natural beauty of a landscape left untamed. The tangled forests and towering mountains of the kingdom he just departed provide plenty of opportunities for such relaxation. He doesn’t even need to be in the desert. 

Is a few moments to himself in some wild landscape really too much to ask?

His feelings about being a ruler are rather neutral. He loves that this position allows him to help his people in the most effective ways, but he’s never craved power. Quite frankly, he’d be equally happy if someone else took over and he was left alone, able to retire to one of his wild places and enjoy the feeling he only gets when he’s alone in nature. 

His power-hungry fellow monarch would call him crazy if she heard this. She’d laugh cruelly and mock him for wanting a quiet life somewhere she can’t find him and drive him to anger with her challenges and harsh words. His other fellow monarch understands better, for she feels the same way. She’d rather stay quiet and content in one of her cities, but he can respect her preference for the bustle of a town. After all, she has yet to mock his desire to retreat to the wild.

Perhaps the two of them should team up. Work against the third to ensure the safety of all of their peoples and make sure the wild attacks of the third cannot do anything to sway them to anger for the rest of their time walking the worlds.


	17. Safety (Lilliana Deeling)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

Her uncle once told her that loyalty was the greatest thing she could give to whoever her commander was. 

His loyalty to his commander ended up getting him killed, but she can still appreciate his advice. His mistakes taught her that her loyalty should only ever be given to a good commander, someone she can trust to not sacrifice her life in order to save their own skin. Someone she can entrust her safety to, and someone who will entrust their safety to her in turn.

She’s gotten extremely lucky in that regard. Her commander has returned every bit of loyalty given to her, and she knows she can trust her commander with her life. Her safety has never been in question. 

(Funny she would say such a thing, considering they’re in the middle of a war. But she’s never feared that her commander would allow her to die for any reason beyond an unavoidable situation, so it’s understandable)

Great commanders, in her opinion, are able to inspire loyalty in those that follow them without ever having to ask for it. She’s fortunate enough to serve one such commander. She’s been fortunate in many different areas. She’s lucky to even be alive.

They all are. 

Her uncle perished long before this war reached its peak, so he never truly saw how much the great commanders he told her about were needed. He never saw how they rose up and took charge when all seemed lost, how they continue to do so even in this, the most hopeless of hours. She knows her commander will return soon from wherever she’s hiding, will come back and challenge their enemy, to ensure her safety, the safety of all of their people. She knows it, because her commander has done so every time previously. Why should this occasion be any different?

It’s hard to have faith as a prisoner, locked up in what was once your own home. The others feel the same way, every day slipping deeper into gloom as the war drags on with no news, no signs of an ending. But she knows her commander. She knows the few survivors will come back. 

She feels safe placing this much trust in her commander, because her commander has placed such trust in her. She knows that she could turn her back and not get stabbed, that her safety will be assured up until the point when death is inevitable, and they have tried everything they can to avoid it anyways. 

Her commander will come back. She’s as sure of it as she is of anything else. And if she’s wrong, then she knows her commander is already dead. Because noting can stop a woman bent on ensuring her people’s safety, nothing except for death itself.


	18. Childhood (Princess Andrea)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

Once the dust has finally settled from the last battle, once the immediate issues have all been dealt with, she slips away to a secluded corner and just sits, thinking.

Everything’s happened so fast, and she’s barely had a moment to herself this entire time. Now, though, everyone’s busy, helping with the cleanup or the wounded, or doing the exact thing she’s doing right now. They could all use this brief moment to themselves. This war went on for far too long.

It’s strange, to look around the place where she was born and raised and barely recognize it. The halls she remembers from her childhood seem larger, better lit, less dark shadows where anything could be hiding. It’s also strange that she feels this way in the immediate aftermath of a truly terrible war, but she can’t explain it to herself.

Maybe it’s her mother. Maybe her mother’s death has lifted that weight off her once and for all.  
Her entire childhood was dominated by her mother, either her towering presence, her cold ignorance of her daughter, or her blazing moments of fury. It’s all she can remember from that time. But her mother is dead now, buried beneath the soil. She’s safe at last.

The scars from the occupation and the last battle still mar the palace walls, but many of them are being scrubbed clean as she sits here. They’re wasting no time with the repairs. They can’t afford to, not when there’s so many other things they need to do. Not when they’re still unsure if the person who saved them will live or die.

She feels guilty, for a moment. Her childhood best friend nearly sacrificed her own life for this cause, and her safety is still in doubt. Did she do enough? Should she have followed her friend in taking the greatest risk of them all?

No, no, that would have been a mistake. They can’t all put their lives on the line so everyone else can live. And the odds are that something would have gone wrong if she’d tried to step in, take action in her own way.

Besides, her people need her. Her mother’s death has left a gaping hole of power, and she’s the only one able to fill it. She can’t afford to make the sacrifice play when there’s a whole kingdom counting on her for leadership. She’s the one they’re all looking to. 

Her childhood wandering through these halls seems so far away now. Was it really that long ago, or has she just changed that much? Have things really shifted so far from how they once were?

Her mother would laugh at her if she heard. But her mother isn’t here. 

It’s a strange feeling, freedom from the weight of her mother’s legacy. It wasn’t a burden she could bear as a child. But now, fully grown with her mother dead and gone, she can move past the fear of her childhood, make herself into the queen she was born to become.

Her past can be put in the past, buried along with her mother’s body. She has a duty to fulfill. And she has every intention of seeing it through as effectively as she possibly can.


	19. Clean (Markus Viera)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The road is clean, empty, no other riders in sight. He almost wishes there were others, that the road was busy and crowded. It might distract him from his thoughts, make him less concerned about the upcoming meeting in the kingdom to the north.

It’s not like he plays a major role in the meetings. He shouldn’t be so concerned about the whole thing. But he knows how it will go. He knows it’ll be a nightmare—these meetings are terrible even without the spectre of war looming over them. And he also knows there’ll be someone there that he doesn’t want to see.

How can he handle seeing the prince again, the man he longs for but can’t have? How can he handle being so close, but unable to make a move? 

His heart aches with longing just thinking about it. Then he feels a fool, for focusing on something so trivial when they’re on the verge of war yet again. He should be more concerned about how to keep his hands clean in that bloody chaos than how to resolve the tangled knots of his emotions.

But who wants to spend their time thinking about the darkness waiting for them just over the horizon? In a way, this is a distraction. He can’t be expected to think solely about dark and serious matters. This is easier, in a way, because at least in this matter there’s a few shards of hope. The war has no such promises.

So he spends his time thinking about the prince instead. The prince that sees him as merely a friend, as someone who loves his princess instead. And he does love his princess, really, but not in the way everyone seems to think he does. He still cares about her deeply, but not as anything more than a dear friend. 

In a way, his troubles with the prince and the war aren’t all that different. They both exist as stains on the clean canvas of his life, both serving to haunt him along this long ride north. They both involve battles, though those battles are of entirely different kinds. 

Love and war are said to be closely connected, aren’t they?

His brother has no helpful advice in this regard, and he can’t ask his princess about it either—though he probably should, she always has the best advice for him. It would be much easier than spending his time silently stewing about how best to resolve an issue he doesn’t really want to resolve.

But he must keep his hands clean, in both love and war. So he’ll sit by and let the prince make his own decision, and if it doesn’t fulfill his heart’s desire then he must smile and be happy for the prince anyways.


	20. Rival (Damien Montgomery)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

He hates it when people feel the need to prove they’re better than him.

It’s not that he’s prideful, per say, it’s just that so many people seem to want to rub it in his face every time he’s wrong about something. And even when he’s right, they try to make him look bad anyways. If he didn’t know better, he might think they had something against him.

But they don’t. They’re just fools who all think they know better than him. None of them do, of course. He’s the smartest of the group—though that’s not saying very much, considering how foolish the rest are.

He can’t wait for the day when he gets to leave them all behind and prove he’s better than them once and for all. They’ll see then. They’ll see that their condescending snorts and eye rolls did nothing to dissuade him, and that they can’t crush him no matter how hard they try. No matter who they decide to send up against him, he’ll triumph.

The girl is their preferred champion, a foolish youngster with a bit of talent and a heap of arrogance. He’s not the only one who sees how dangerous she is, fortunately, but most of his rivals are blind to it. And even his queen, who claims to know exactly how the girl will lead them all to ruin, tends to give her far too many responsibilities, stating that she can’t afford to waste her skill in such dark times. 

How stupid can they be?

She’s his greatest rival, the girl is. And she barely even seems to realize it. He can count on one hand the number of times she’s actually acknowledged that he has the potential to be better than her. Even with her uncanny skill, he can beat her. No one’s invulnerable after all. And when it comes down to it, he’ll ally with those he knows have the ability to take her down.

The others call them their enemies, say that he should stay far away from them or be called a traitor. But they’re not his rivals, not like the girl is. They alone see the truth. They alone can stop the girl from destroying them all.

His fellows act like he’s the problem, like he’s the one who acts as their rival constantly. Always getting in the way, they say when they think he can’t heat. Always thinking he knows better than everyone else. 

He’ll show them. He’ll take out the girl, his rival for their attention, and then he’ll prove himself to be better than any one of them.

After all, why should she get all the attention? It’s time he took the spotlight for himself.


	21. Trick (Princess Alana)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

Masquerades are much more fun when she’s using them to complete an assignment. Her mother’s assigned her the task of scouting out the traitor they’ve heard is visiting the masked ball, and she fairly itches with excitement as she skirts the edge of the room, keeping a careful gaze locked on the dancers swirling across the polished marble floor.

Her trick needs to be perfect, otherwise the traitor she hunts will recognize her instantly and run, knowing they’ve been discovered. Her mask can’t slip an inch out of place, and she’s silently grateful she chose one decorated with long feathers that hide her face from the crowd. Not that she’s ashamed of her appearance. Her mother’s always taught her to be confident, though not prideful. It’s just easier if she stays hidden, so the traitor won’t recognize her on sight. She’s a fairly recognizable figure, after all.

She shifts slightly, sensing a shift in the room. A signal from one of the other observers, perhaps? A sign that the traitor she hunts knows all is not well? Or is it simply her imagination, running wild on her first mission without any real guidance?

They’re all equally fair options. Mind you, so is the possibility that her disguise has been betrayed. It’s easy, at a masquerade. You try to trick people into thinking you’re someone else, and they figure you out anyways. She’s a public figure. She can’t hide forever, which is why this is only for part of the night. If she still hasn’t found the traitor by the end of the hour, one of her sisters will take her place in the search, and she’ll sweep into the spotlight acting like she was there all along, what do you mean you couldn’t find me? It’s a quick, simple trick that people fall for time and time again. 

Her eyes dart from corner to corner, seeing nothing yet. But the night’s still young. Anything could happen, especially at an open ball. When the public’s allowed to come to play, anything can happen. Usually good, though. They rarely have incidents at events like these.

Another shift in the room, though she recognizes this one. Her mother’s arrived, a handy distraction that’ll allow her to search the room without interruption for a few minutes. Another little trick she has up her sleeve for this mission. She’s got enough little tricks to be able to bluff her way out of most emergency situations. Not all, never all. You can’t be prepared for everything all the time.

Her mother catches her eye from across the room, nods once in acknowledgement. Then she’s gone, and she turns back to the floor and waits, observing. Her little tricks will all come together soon, transforming from mere tricks into a real plan. She just needs to be patient.


	22. Heist (Princess Sameana)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

In another life, in another world, she could have been a dealer. She doesn’t know what she’d deal, what she’d sell. Something illicit—oh, she loves that word—something illegal. Anything people desperately want but can’t have.

Isn’t that how she operates? She takes things from those who have power, and keeps them for herself. Sometimes selling them to the desperate, the poor, at costs that would horrify her enemies, make them hate her even more than they already do. But those fool enough to buy from her aren’t worthy of the power she hoards. Everything must come at a cost. Her eyes remind her of that every day.

Drugs. She’d sell drugs, handing them to those who want to feel a lick of warmth, of some spark their dreary or dark life doesn’t provide them with. Forcing them to come back again and again, run themselves dry in an attempt to give their pitiful lives meaning. Oh, how she relishes the thought. Those pathetic people, indebted to her. All for a spark of hope.

Aren’t they all fools? To think there’s even such a thing. Impossible. She’s made sure of that time and time again.

Oh, the power she’d have over them. The sweet rush she gets every time she strips some fool of their magic would surround her every day. She’d have all the power in the world, the ability to manipulate kings and topple empires with the simple exchange of a substance for a few coins. 

But of course, she could be that now.

No. She forgets, in her plotting, the curse she can’t shake. The blasted words of a dying princess, damning her for eternity. Making it difficult—but not impossible, oh no—to set her greatest heist into motion. The words of a grieving lover, throwing down a decree for herself and all her descendants. Making her hunted, rather than the hunter she’d much rather be. 

So her dreams of a heist of magic, returning to her days of glory, must remain just that: dreams. Her days of stealing and hoarding are over. Someday, all too soon, she must finally face the music. And that battle will be the only one she knows she can never win.


	23. Stars (Queen Deirdre)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The night sky shines with the light of a million stars, illuminating the world in the moon’s absence. If it were any other night, she might stop and look up for a while, enjoy the quiet beauty of it all. But this is not any other night.

On what ordinary night would she be standing on the walls of a city she barely knows, braced for battle at any time? Not any one she can think of, not in living memory. And she’s lived a long time. For her, living memory is no small thing.

The information they have about the attack is negligible. They only know that it’s happening tonight, and since this city is their only base, it must be here. If this were a strategic war, she’d worry about their enemies attacking some other location, either to kill innocent citizens or as some sort of feint. But this war is about revenge. About their enemies obtaining justice for what they see as their wrongful imprisonment. So it will be here. That, at least, she knows with absolute certainty.

Most of the others are looking to her, on this moonless night under the stars. They see her as unshakeable, impossible to rattle. And she’s doing a very good job of projecting that image. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost believe it herself.

But she’s not infallible. None of them are. Her fellow leaders are as terrified as she is. As every soldier and warrior beneath them is. As commanders, they have to be better at hiding it. They’ve all had a long time to perfect this act, so it would be disappointing if they couldn’t hide their fear.

The stars shine brightly, yet they bring her no cheer. Not when things down below are so grim. The seer warned them that one of their number would die tonight—one of the commanders, there will always be soldiers that fall. And while some might scoff at the seer’s words, claim she’s making it all up, she knows better. She knows the danger is all too real. Tonight, one of them will die under the stars. The only question is who.

There is one that cannot die. Not now, not when she is needed so desperately. But herself, and most of the others, are expendable at the end of the day—or the end of the night. So the stars are ominous, even if they would normally be welcome.

But these are strange times, and the hazards are far greater than they would be ordinarily. They can no longer afford the luxury of ordinary nights. So she turns her gaze back to the stars and waits for the battle to begin.


	24. Hug (Elsha Daelond)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

When it’s all over, when the dust settles and everything goes quiet, she steps aside, out of the planning and the debating and the talking. She finds an empty room down a side hall and sits, alone in the middle of the floor. Her head soon falls into her hands, too heavy to hold up any longer.

Her mind spins, dancing from image to thought to wish to memory and back again. An endless ballet of agony as she thinks about the lost, the dead. Her friends. Her children. Her everything.

The others can have their celebration, their joy at victory, their moments of glory. She’s had it all already. And it’s not what she wants, not right now when her whole world is steeped in misery like some horrifying herbal tea.

(And even that aches, because it brings to mind her friend forcing that horrible concoction down her throat whenever she was ill, laughing at her expression of distaste and saying ‘it’s good for you, you’ll thank me later when you feel better’)

The worst of it is that it’s not her fault. No mistake of hers led them to their doom, no, there are others taking the blame for that—even if some don’t deserve it. There was nothing she could have done to save them. No matter what she tried, they might have died anyways.

(Her eldest daughter always used to say she was too guilty. Always trying to claim responsibility for mistakes she didn’t actually make. Storm, how she wishes she was here. She’d run to her daughter and seize her in the tightest hug she possibly could, refusing to let go until she heard a muffled ‘I need air, mom’. What she wouldn’t give to go back)

So she sits here, alone on the floor of an empty room in a palace full of painful memories, and fights back tears as she remembers those lost days of endless sunshine, bright grins, and hugs that felt as if they’d go on until the end of time.


	25. Search (Fianna Kelwyn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

Her eyes scan the halls quickly as she walks, engaged in a search for anyone else who might be trying to approach her. She can’t have another conversation, not now. Not after the seer left her so rattled, so uncertain of her next move.

She’d been so confident that she was right. So certain driving him away was the right decision, in order to spare both herself and her daughter. But she doesn’t know anymore. Maybe she never did, and the seer just had to point that out to her.

How could she have been so blind? How could she have avoided searching her soul, looking for her exact motivation for her every action? And why didn’t she realize it sooner? If she had, things would be so much easier. She wouldn’t be at odds with her daughter, her closest friends. She wouldn’t be so torn between him and her queen.

If she’d been thinking, she’d have avoided this whole situation. She could have searched for another way, some alternate path that didn’t lead to the seer confronting her and telling her death was now inevitable. And not just in the sense that they all die someday. According to the seer, she stands no chance of surviving this war. And the seer is never wrong, no matter how much they all want her to be.

So now her time is limited. She has to search for the quickest route possible to achieve what she needs to before it runs out. After all, she has a great deal of wrongs to right. She has far too many things she must amend for.

She can’t fix her friendship with him. She went too far too many times, and even if she tried it’s far too late to start. He’s forgiving, but even he needs time. And that’s not a luxury she can afford any longer. She’ll make overtures, though. She’ll take the first steps, try letting go of her pride for a little while. He’ll have to take care of her daughter, when she’s gone. He’s the only one she trusts to do so.

Her daughter will be complicated, and there’s still more the girl doesn’t know. But she can’t say something now. The girl will hate her even more than she already does. And despite her soul-searching, she can’t find it in herself to make that happen just yet.

And her friends, oh Storm, where can she even begin? Even if she fights to stretch her time as long as she possibly can, there’s no way she’ll be able to repair the damage she’s done. She has no intention of trying to cut her time short. There’s too much for her to do. But thinking about it now makes the burden of her many mistakes seem almost too enormous to handle.

But she can search for a way to fix this. She has to. Because she can’t continue like this any longer. And she’s running out of time to change the things she desperately needs to make right.


	26. Light (Princess Alana)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The sun has just risen over the mountains, bathing everything in golden light as she walks outside to stand before the palace doors. Slowly, she breathes in, allowing the brilliant rays of light to warm her, release the last six months of tension from her body.

It’s over. They won. Finally, she can breathe easy again.

Of course, the work has yet to begin. Even from here, she can see the damaged buildings, the scars of fire on the streets, the fear that still resides in the faces of the citizens. There’s repairs to be made, dead to be mourned, heroes to be honoured, wounded to be healed...the list goes on and on. But they can start the work now. They don’t have to fight anymore, don’t have to spend their time wondering if the next sunrise will be the last they ever see.

She feels light, as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. Standing here in the early morning sunshine, she’s lighter than she’s been in years. Her heart soars along with the birds she now sees sweeping up high above the city walls, her mind calm for the first time in more than a year. She’s almost forgotten what it feels like to be content. To be fearless.

Maybe it’s the effect of standing in the light of the sun without a care in the world. But she feels like they stand a chance, now. The war’s over. The cleanup cannot possibly be as difficult as what their enemies threw at them. 

She hasn’t really considered herself an optimist before. But war changes people, and so does peace. It doesn’t matter that peace has only been here for about a day. They have it. They fought for it, and they earned themselves the right to stand and bask in the light for a little while, savouring the fruits of their victory. 

Part of her thinks she should go back inside, start making plans with the others about their next step. But the day’s still young. They can deal with that later. Besides, few will be awake right now anyways. They’re still sleeping off the impact of years of war, of that last, desperate battle that brought them to victory. She’ll let them sleep for a while longer.

Besides, she wants to keep this moment in the light to herself for a while.

She stands perfectly still, watching as the birds fly up to the highest turret of the palace, and smiles as the light of the sun finally warms her entirely, filling her with joy as dawn breaks over a new era of peace.


	27. Dark (Princess Celeste)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

She sits in the center of the cavern and lets the dark surround her, closing her eyes to block out even the fire slowly dying to embers before her. This is the best way to look ahead, to cast her gaze forward and see what the future has in store. Not for her, there are rules about that, but for those she has been tasked with watching over. Those she has been tasked with guiding to the best possible future.

Sometimes she doubts her decision. It was the hardest thing she ever did, leaving her family behind to fulfill the duty she always knew she had to. But who else would have taken up this mantle? Seers, true seers, are few and far between. As soon as she discovered her powers of sight, she knew this was the only path for her.

So here she is.

Sitting in the dark, alone, waiting for the future to reveal itself to her. She hates this sometimes, especially when she sees horrible truths, dark secrets. It’s worst when she encounters futures where her family dies, or is sorely hurt either physically or emotionally. For her father, there’s no truly painless path, and that hurts even more.

She’s strong enough to handle the weight of the future, but not strong enough to pretend she doesn’t want to manipulate it. That’s not her duty, and she’d be severely punished if she tried, but oh, how she wants to. She could spare them all so much heartache if she were allowed to take action. 

But the dark has denied her that privilege, so she must observe and silently hope they make the right choices. They all have the ability to avoid the darkest futures ahead of them. Destiny changes depending on the choices people make. But far too often, they make the wrong choices. She’s seen it countless times in her observance of the future and the present.

The dark envelops her as the future finally swirls into existence before her eyes. She pushes aside her thoughts and focuses on the images before her, hoping without optimism that this time, they will be less cruel than they have been before.


	28. Dream (Princess Alesandra)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

Lights swirl, fading in and out of focus with every movement. She blinks, and blinks again, a hand stretching up to rub at her eyes before falling back down to her side. No point. Not while she’s here. Echo knows how long that could be. 

Her fingers tremble, a slight motion she can’t quash, hasn’t been able to for thousands of years. Damn you, she thinks, reflecting on the woman who killed her, who put her here. Damn you a thousand times and a million more. 

But there’s nothing she can do about it now.

She can wait. She can sit here until her compatriots realize who they are, what they are. She’s been doing it for long enough, after all. Yet it chafes, eating at her like rot at a log, bacteria at long-dead flesh. And she hates it, knows a being destined to be immortal should not be so impatient. Knows that it will all be worth it once she lives again. But here, in this dark realm of spirits and memory, the world of the living seems like a far away dream. One she had long ago, and has held onto ever since with the desperate grip of a drifter, lost at sea with only a plank of wood to keep them afloat.

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe this is her life now, trapped within this mockery of a city, in this imitation world. How long ago was it when she was a princess and a heroine, loved by all and destined to be among the greatest of them all? How long ago was it when her powers were stripped away, everything she’d once known snatched from her in one fell swoop?

The light keeps swirling around her, and she closes her eyes, wishing that she could open them and look upon the world once again, see the kingdom she left behind one more time.


	29. Accuse (Prince Bran)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

He can’t stand his sister sometimes.

He’s well aware his intelligence will never come close to her level. He’s not so stupid as to think he can ever equal her in terms of careful planning, of plots that twist their enemies into circles they struggle to get out of. He knows all too well how lost he’d be without her assistance. But at times like this, when she accuses him of screwing up their plans because she forgot one tiny detail, he hates her with a burning passion.

She can accuse him all she wants, and it won’t make a difference. The truth is, their enemies are getting smarter. They have people able to defeat them, hidden weapons he has no way of combating. With their limited technology, they won’t stand a chance against the new innovations their enemies continue to bring onto the battlefield.

He doesn’t like to stoop to his sister’s level and accuse her of poor planning, but sometimes he thinks that she didn’t quite think their betrayal through. If they’d stayed with the others, they’d have the technology to help the master defeat the others. They wouldn’t need to rely on the assistance of the fools they’re forced to ally with.

He’d never tell her that, though. Then she’d accuse him of being a traitor, and that’s worse. Even though they’re all traitors in the end, to be a traitor to his sister’s cause is the worst thing he could ever do. 

Their enemies circle like wolves, inching closer with every day. They can win a few battles here and there, but at the end of the day they’re doomed to failure. 

Maybe he’s too pessimistic. Maybe the master’s right, and he assumes things much too hastily. But he can’t help but think that if they’d never turned against the others, they’d be much safer today. That he wouldn’t be here worrying that his sister will come in and accuse him of ruining her plans simply because their enemies always happen to be a step ahead of them.

His family is incredibly important to him. But Shadow, he hates them at times.


	30. Challenge (Gina Tiananis)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

The early morning light gives the world a sort of dreamlike quality, and she blinks several times to ensure the mist shrouding her vision isn’t just exhaustion. She’s always been an early riser, but never quite this early. 

Today’s different, though. Today is the first day after they won, earned victory against all odds. Today, for the first time, she can enjoy the new life she’s made for herself. Is still making, really.

She thinks back, remembers the impoverished orphan she once was. How long ago that seems now, how distant the scared, desperate child is from this new her. Now, she’s confident, able to wield her intellect in ways she never would have considered before. The future is ripe with possibility, and she’s never been more eager to take on the challenge of helping to rebuild a kingdom.

And she’s not alone. That, at least, has always been a constant. Before, she had the gang, now, she has her friends. Her newfound family, a combination of the nobility and her old gang. Her friends, an amalgamation of people from three—no, four—different kingdoms. She’s been offered a new title as head of technology development in her homeland, another challenge that she can’t wait to take on. Today signifies the dawn of a new era. She can handle whatever challenge it decides to throw at her. Nothing could possibly be harder than what they’ve already been through.

Her spirit sings as she looks out over the plain at the rising sun, shrouded in early morning mist. Dew lies thick and heavy on the grass, dampening the earth at her feet. Scars from fire still mar the earth, but healing those wounds is just another challenge, just another obstacle they can overcome.

They have time. They have all the time in the world.


	31. Reunion (Emyn Aaronsen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from oc-growth-and-development on Tumblr.

He can’t believe what he’s seeing.

The group of strangers stands before him, hooded and bloody. Their eyes dart from side to side, their postures tense and uncertain. He vaguely recognizes a few nobles from the other kingdoms, but he’s more fixated on the one he does recognize.

He never thought he’d see her again, not after he sent her off to join the army, encouraged her to take the best offer she’d ever get in her life. For years, he’d thought that moment had been goodbye for them. That moment would be the last time he ever saw his best friend.

But now she’s here, standing in front of them. Their reunion may be under strange circumstances, but it’s a reunion all the same. 

How long has it been? How many years have passed since they were last together, young and poor and afraid of everything? They had been children then, uncertain and unsure. Now, they’re adults, scarred and bitter and world-weary. 

He’s dreamed of a reunion with her, his oldest and dearest friend. But he never thought those dreams could become reality. They’d only ever been a far-fetched fantasy. 

And now she’s here again, part of a ragtag group asking for his help. Telling him he’s their last hope, the last shelter they have against the evil that rages across the worlds. Telling him the fate of everything, in every world, is in his hands.

He never thought they’d reunite at all. A reunion like this seems even more impossible. But it’s happening, and it’s real. So he’ll say yes, agree to the dangerous deal he’s being offered. 

Because this deal comes with a reunion. A chance to finally see his best friend again after years of being impossibly far apart.


End file.
